by Luna Quinn
He tensed at the other man’s physical closeness to Sasha. Archer was asking if she wanted to take a walk and then a gateway with him, and Razor wondered why Sasha didn’t punch the other Reaper for being nice. To Razor and his beast’s relief, Archer didn’t touch her. That told Razor that maybe his friend had known just how close to death he’d been.
Sasha chose the Reaper Express. But before she vanished, her gaze met Razor’s from across the hallway, and a storm raged in her eyes. Razor’s chest tightened and he almost went to her. She didn’t give him a chance, disappearing as soon as he took the first step.
Chapter Twenty
Sasha spent the next week keeping as busy as possible, just for the sole purpose of avoiding Razor. Because having a little chat with him about what had gone down in the apartment that night was the last thing she wanted right now. He’d seen right past her lies, and they both knew it.
She didn’t know if she had the strength to face him and continue to lie and hide her feelings. Or continue to hurt him with this…this thing inside her that made it so damn difficult to let anyone close. Although it wasn’t just him. Sasha had been pushing away, lashing out, at anyone who dared try to get close enough to Sasha’s heart for centuries. Sael, Locke, and Archer were the exception. They had somehow slipped through, and Sasha was thankful. She wished she could just let Razor in without getting hurt, but how? It was getting more difficult to pull off the I-don’t-give-a-shit act.
Sadly, no matter what she seemed to do—getting more involved on the streets, training harder with Sael, working with Archer and Locke—the thoughts and feelings she didn’t want to admit she had for Razor wouldn’t leave her alone.
But she stubbornly continued to find ways to avoid him. If that meant she was following up with some street kids while also collecting her souls, well, too bad. Luckily, since taking on the investigation, Xavier had made sure that the majority of her soul collections were given to Locke and Archer so she could focus on work. But she still got one every once in a while.
On the fifth day of ignoring Razor, she got a Call to collect a soul from Sector Three. Her streets, her turf. She sighed, transporting to where the soul was waiting for her.
She appeared in a tiny bedroom with a mattress on the floor serving as the only furniture. A body was splayed across the mattress, but there wasn’t much left of the body to identify. It was becoming too common of a problem. This body wasn’t all the way melted like the previous deaths were. Kneeling next to the bed with arms around what was left of the body was a small, thin girl. She was crying, and as Sasha stepped closer, she became familiar.
“Hailie?” Sasha asked tentatively.
The girl didn’t move, tears streaking down her dirty face. Hailie was just as filthy as the last time Sasha had seen her, though her clothes were different. She looked absolutely miserable, and her scratchy voice confirmed it. “She-she’s…my sister is…” Her voice broke on a sob.
Sasha was instantly there, putting a light hand on Hailie’s back, rubbing in small circles. Nothing she could do would ease the pain, but she couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. “What happened?”
After hiccupping and wiping tears and snot from her face, the girl attempted speech again. Her gaze stayed firmly on the messy body she clung to. “She found one of the old packages of the special drugs Maverick gave me to sell. I told her not to, but she took the drug anyway. I said I was going to get in trouble, but then…something happened to her. She fell to the floor and couldn’t stop shaking. Then she started to rip at her skin. She clawed half her arm off…then she tried to attack me.”
Finally moving, Hailie lifted her arms enough for Sasha to take in the long sleeves that had been shredded away from her arms, and the messy bite marks that ran along almost every visible inch of her skin.
“I tried to push her away,” Hailie mumbled, “and then she just stopped. Shook a lot more while some of her body, like, melted. She didn’t move again.”
Sasha hugged the girl with one arm, her eyes closed as she digested everything. “Oh, Hailie…I’m so sorry.”
Hailie leaned on her, shoulders shaking weakly. “I don’t know what to do…she was all I had left. Maybe Castor will—”
Suddenly stiff, Hailie pushed Sasha away and stumbled back herself. Her eyes were wide, fearful, as she looked around. “I’m not supposed to talk to you. Go away.”
The anger from nowhere made Sasha frown. “Of course you can talk to me. It’s okay.”
Hailie shook her head sharply. “No, I can’t.”
Sasha’s brow furrowed in concern. “Maverick?”
Hailie shook her head. “You need to go. Please…” Her voice came out barely a whisper, and then the girl bolted out of the room.
Deeply troubled, Sasha silently collected the soul while anger grew within her. It was clear that Castor was up to no good, as usual. But even worse was the sickening dread that came with the knowledge that none of the kids he was supposed to be protecting were actually safe.
She needed to tell Razor about this, but she was afraid of what would happen the next time they were face to face. At some point, she would suck it up and talk to him. Until then, she would go headfirst into this lead and talk to more of the kids in her Sector to find out everything she could. Then she would bring it all to Razor.
Just not today.
Chapter Twenty-One
Razor’s patrols on the streets had kept him busy for most of the week, which had saved him from doing something really stupid. Like let his beast out of its cage and let it do what it was itching to do: track down Sasha.
For days, every single one of his text messages to her went unanswered.
Every. Single. One.
Even the calls he’d made to her cell phone had shot straight to voicemail. He hadn’t left any. In his state, anything he might have said would have only worsened their already fragile relationship.
After what had happened at the murder site, Razor had thought that it would be easy to have a sit-down talk with her. He’d clearly been wrong. Again. It was obvious that everything he thought he knew about Sasha had been wrong. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever really known her. The knowledge made his skin prickle, and Razor could practically feel his fascination/obsession for the woman who was like a fucking mystery to him growing.
He should have gone after her that day in the apartment. Archer might have tried to stop him, but Razor wasn’t beyond knocking out a man for making the mistake of getting in between him and Sasha.
Aside from his issues with Sasha, the long hours he’d dedicated to the case hadn’t produced anything useful. Sin was still working on analyzing the drugs they’d found. So far, the only real lead they had were the melted bodies. And that was starting to look like a big dead end since they hadn’t found any more. The test Sin had done on them had shown that they’d had drugs in their system, but it hadn’t been a match to the one Razor had found on the Vampire-Shifter. There were similarities, but that could mean that whoever had made it had possibly used the common formula street dealers used. On the plus side, Razor had managed to get some potentially useful information from a Sector Two prostitute. According to her, one of the missing girls was moonlighting as a prostitute. But since she hadn’t really “known” the girl, she couldn’t say for sure if it was her. The lie had been easy to smell.
Razor rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion. No one wanted to speak up out of fear. But who did they fear? He wanted to find whoever this person was and kill him, then revive him only to kill him a second time. He vowed that even if this wasn’t related to the investigation, he’d follow up on the secret those women seemed to be hiding.
He blew out a frustrated breath, itching for a smoke.
It’s going to have to wait, he thought as he spotted Sin and Edge heading in his direction. The three met outside of Night’s office in the club, and their moods must have matched Razor’s because they all just nodded to each other.
Razor pushed the doo
r open and froze.
Night was sitting behind his black desk, leaning back in a lazy sprawl, knees wide, face serene as he tapped away on a handheld tablet. A young woman with curly orange hair knelt between his thighs, sucking noisily at Night’s dick.
That wasn’t what had made Razor stop at the threshold, though.
“Ah, Night…Did you know there’s a naked boy chained to your desk?” Razor inquired calmly. The young man had his ass up in the air, his testicles and dick clearly on display, and from his position, Razor noticed the short orange curls spilling over the wood where his forehead rested. Same hair, same skin tone as the girl on her knees. Razor would bet they were siblings.
“Yes, thank you for that insightful observation, Razor.” Night finally glanced at them. “That’ll teach you to knock first. And he’s not a boy, he’s a slave. My slave.”
Night groaned in pleasure, placing a hand in the female’s hair. “Gods, you’re good,” he praised. Then to Razor he said, “At least until he finds a permanent master. Then I’ll have to let him go.”
“Classy, Night. Very classy.” Sasha’s voice behind him had Razor stiffening. What the hell was she doing here? Where had she come from that he hadn’t felt her approach?
Night shrugged. “It is what it is. There’s rules to this world, you know?” his brother said, clearly referring to the world of kink he so enjoyed. Curiosity sparked inside Razor, memories running through his mind of sex with Sasha, and of the BDSM scenes he’d watched in the exclusive sections of the Night House. “Besides,” Night continued, returning Razor’s thoughts to the present, “he enjoys everything I do to him. Don’t you, boy?”
The orange haired kid shivered, his cock clearly twitching in its aroused state. “Yes, Sir.”
Edge shouldered through, making a sound of annoyance. “Get them out, Night. You’re wasting my time.”
“Prick,” their brother mumbled grumpily. But he complied, anyway.
A few minutes later, they were back to business. Razor forced himself to remain nonchalant, but fuck, it’d been a week of silence from Sasha. A week. An entire week of her avoiding him, and now she was here, inches from him.
With the brother and sister duo now gone, Edge had taken the seat Night had vacated. The chair creaked as Edge leaned back. “Three more Vampire-Shifter creatures were found today.”
Sin, Night, and Razor cursed at the same time.
“Where are they? I haven’t received any reports on them,” Razor said, more than a little irritated that no one had informed him sooner.
Edge folded his arms across his chest. “Dead. You won’t be getting any reports. I spotted them. Tracked them for two days.”
Razor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His peripheral vision was full of Sasha. “And?”
“They seem to have a pack mentality. At least in their shifted forms. Though these three probably had a familial connection. Their pre-transformation features were very similar. That could have been the reason they stuck together.”
“Though the pack mentality could certainly be because they were family, it could also be a result of the drugs. We don’t know what the magic in it is meant to do,” Sin added.
Edge nodded in agreement. “Possibly. We don’t know nearly enough about these creatures to make any calls yet.”
“The two that Archer and Razor came across were alone.” Sasha’s voice was like string tugging at him. He had to look at her. “Maybe they didn’t have a pack, or were just separated when they were found.”
“They could be retaining some of their pre-Vamp-Shifter mentality,” Night said thoughtfully, running a finger back and forth over the light shadow of a beard on his jaw. “So if they ran in a group, gang, crew, family, or whatever, maybe even after taking this drug their brains still tell them to stay together.”
“Another possibility,” Sin said as Edge made a noise of agreement.
“At least in the stage we seem to be catching them in.” Razor forced his eyes away from his Reaper. “What we don’t know is what would happen if they are left to roam. If someone is feeding them these drugs or pushing the black magic into them, do they have specific orders to follow? Are they free to think on their own? If so, what is the purpose behind their creation?”
“Razor’s creature managed to say something, didn’t it?” Sasha asked, and it was like it pained her to say his name, and it fucking sucked. It made something in Razor’s chest tighten painfully.
She wouldn’t even look at him.
Suddenly bone tired of whatever game they were playing, he turned to her, addressing his answer to her. “Yes, he did. The Judge must die.” He repeated the words to her, his voice harsher than he’d intended. He kept his gaze locked on her profile.
Someone cleared their throat, but for the life of him, he couldn’t peel his eyes from her, willing her to look at him.
“That sounds almost like a command,” she said, still talking to Edge. “Hypnosis?”
“It could definitely be something a Witch could weave into the magic.” Night paused, mulling that over.
“Is it possible that the reason could be about Shadow Realm itself?” Sasha suggested. “It wouldn’t be the first attempt at a takeover.”
Razor pushed back all his frustration and tried really hard to concentrate on the meeting. This was the reason mixing business with pleasure was a big no-no.
“That’s almost always a possibility, silly little Reaper,” Night said with a roll of his eyes.
Sasha bristled at Night. “I was only asking because so far, the only creature who said anything, therefore giving us a clue, was Razor’s guy. And his words were very specific, you asshat.”
“Cold-hearted bitch,” Night returned with uncharacteristic seriousness. Razor’s head snapped to Night. He didn’t even know he had snarled until Night put his hands up in a “my bad” gesture.
He was about to ask Night what the fuck his deal was when Edge growled and said, “Not the time.”
“My apologies, lovely lady,” Night said gallantly.
Sasha rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”
Edge gave a long-suffering sigh. “We need to have another meeting with the Witches. Get all the commanders in here, too.” He turned to Razor. “Anything on your end?”
Sitting up straight, Razor started to recount his talk with the Sector Two prostitute and all the dead ends he’d encountered this week. When he was done, Edge was frowning. Sasha was now looking at him, but while that should have made him happy, her gaze was almost looking through him.
“Keep digging. It could mean nothing, but we need to make sure.” Edge said.
He nodded in agreement.
“But,” Edge added, his voice an octave lower, dangerously so. “If someone is trying to take Shadow Realm, they’d better be prepared for war.”
Excitement rose through the room. No words were needed to convey the Hellhounds’ answers.
“Black magic is a pain in the ass to come by,” Sin added when the room calmed again. “Those with no ties to the Underworld have no access to it. Those that leave can no longer use their connection to the land and its power. Which means this drug maker is probably using a strong magic user who is still in the Underworld. He would need an Underworld Witch or Demon with a lot of power.”
“Any guesses?” Razor asked.
“One sec.” Sin’s fingers flew over a small-ass tablet. Razor didn’t know how the fuck his youngest brother could get anything done on it since it was only as big as his palm.
Night sat on the edge of the desk, his fingers tapping against the wood. “If the Demon or Witch is still bound, then he can’t very well be physically in Shadow Realm. So he isn’t the one personally distributing and making the drugs or snatching up the females and the souls. Though, we’re all in agreement that we can’t be sure all those are related. So if the magic that was used still smells of sulfur and brimstone, as Romina put it, then this Other is simply the puppet. The question is…who’s the puppet master?�
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It was Sasha who answered. “Oh, he can definitely be physically here. If it’s a Demon, they would need to be released from their oath to whoever summoned them out of the Underworld, which is not an easy thing, but it is possible.”
“That would certainly change things.” Night looked at Sin. “How many Demons with that much juice are we talking about?”
“According to my calculations, there are approximately one hundred and eighty species of Others that could possibly carry that much black magic in them to be able to live through a summoning to this realm.”
Razor snorted, Night laughed, and Edge scowled. That was the biggest reason why not just anyone in the human realm could summon up a Demon. It was hit or miss. A summoner could get the ritual right, but not the right Demon. Trying to bring through a lower caste Demon almost always resulted in the Demon’s death. And if they did successfully cross, they were usually too weak to be of much use. Which was why everyone in the Underworld feared human magic users. The successful summonings that occurred before the Great Fires were what had led to the start of the mixed children. Half human, half Other. Like Anila, Gabriel’s second-in-command.
“Sin. You have to do better than that, or else you’re of no use to us, and we’ll have to vote you off the island,” Razor said in a mock-serious tone.
“I am immune to your voting. I handle all the finances. And the human companies. You really don’t want to vote me off,” Sin countered as he continued to type.
Night snorted. “I’m so glad you got stuck with that bullshit. I can’t deal with humans even on my better days.
“We don’t have time to look into all those Others. Concentrate on Demons,” Edge said.
“Working on it,” Sin answered as he continued to tap away.
Sin really was the brains of the four. He did all the technological crap that was needed to run Shadow Realm, and with help from his most trusted employees, he ran most of the business dealings with human companies. Thanks to Sin, Shadow Realm had its own cable TV providers, wi-fi, cell phone towers, and all that good stuff.